


Itch

by Essea Aen Carn (Trotzkopf)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Frenemies With Benefits to Lovers, M/M, feels we would rather pretend are not there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 16:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16747771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotzkopf/pseuds/Essea%20Aen%20Carn
Summary: They had been fooling around for weeks. Neither could rightly recall how it had started - spite probably - but both secretly blamed the other man for their predicament. It was like an itch that never really went away no matter how often you scratched it. Irritating and distracting and absolutely impossible to ignore.





	Itch

**Author's Note:**

> Response to anon Tumblr prompt "I love you, you asshole"

“My mistake—“

“Your _first_ mistake,” Emhyr interrupted, turning away from the open double doors that led onto his balcony, and stalked toward Geralt with narrowed eyes, “was to show up here uninvited, witcher.”

Lesser men would have withered under his stare. Many had. But Geralt merely crossed his arms and snorted.

“Here? You mean here in Nilfgaard? Here in the palace? Or here in your bedroom? Was under the impression I had an open invitation since our last…meeting.” Geralt tapped his lip. “Or was it the one before that. Or the one before _that_ one.” He smirked when he smelled the anger rolling off Emhyr. The emperor was furious. But with whom?

They had been fooling around for weeks. Neither could rightly recall how it had started - spite probably - but both secretly blamed the other man for their predicament. It was like an itch that never really went away no matter how often you scratched it. Irritating and distracting and absolutely impossible to ignore.

“Your _second_ mistake was not to run when you still had the chance.”

Emhyr had probably meant it as a threat. And for any other man, it would have spelled certain death. But all it did for Geralt was to quicken his pulse.

“Just so happens I’m exactly where I wanna be right now.” Cat eyes darted to the hard line of Emhyr’s mouth.

“Shut up!” Emhyr snarled already reaching for the back of Geralt’s head. The kiss was brutal, more teeth than lips. Possessive and punishing. Geralt took it all. But in the end it was Emhyr’s spine against the mattress and the witcher fucking the breath out of him again and again.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Emhyr said after he remembered how words worked. He felt disgusting and sated, and something else he tried his best to shove as far away as possible.

“Why not?” Geralt asked, rolling onto his side with a grunt.

Emhyr slowly turned his head. “Was that a serious question?”

Geralt waved his hand in the air. “I’m satisfied. You’re—“ he let his eyes roam over Emhyr’s body. “—wanna go again?”

Something decidedly unflattering was muttered in Nilfgaardian before Emhyr sat up. He managed to get one foot on the ground before a strong arm wrestled him back into bed and Geralt pinned him down with his weight.

“I knew you had a death wish, witcher. It’s practically in your job description. But despite our extracurricular activities, you’d do better to remember—“

“Oh, gimme a break!” Geralt rolled his eyes. “Look, we’re having fun. Yes, you hate me and, yes, I—”

“I don’t hate you.” Emhyr bit his lip. The thing he had tried to shove away had apparently decided to shove back.

Geralt opened his mouth a few times but nothing came out. After two solid minutes of embarrassed silence, Emhyr experimentally pushed against the witcher’s hold.

“Hang on a minute,” Geralt said, putting a bit more pressure on Emhyr’s wrists. “You know, I think I don’t hate you either.”

“I’m glad we talked about this. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have an empire to rule.” Emhyr tried and failed to get out of bed and away from this conversation.

Geralt seemed to barely notice. “I mean you’re an ass. And a tyrant. And you’ve been a horrible father.” Guilt and hurt flashed in Emhyr’s eyes. You had to really know him to see it, but it was there, and with good reason. But Geralt didn’t want to leave him hanging, so he added, “But as much as I hate to admit it, you’re making an effort to make up for it. I know Ciri respects you despite everything. And you were right to offer her the throne. She’ll be amazing and everyone will love her as much as they feared you. Seriously, most people are terrified of you.”

“But not you,” Emhyr said.

Geralt smirked. “Nah. I’ve seen you naked.”

Emhyr closed his eyes and sighed. He had chosen this.

His eyes snapped open when warm breath tickled his ear. “And I’ve come to see the man behind the emperor and he’s not all that bad. So, no, I don’t really hate you either.”

They made love again, bereft of all their usual aggravation, but no less hungry as if the acknowledgment had opened the possibility that maybe, just maybe, this was more than just an itch.And maybe, if they made an effort, it might just work out all right in the end.


End file.
